Sweet Dreams
by Dea Avernorum
Summary: It was Loony Lovegood – Potter’s friend. Draco grimaced in distaste. He was stuck in this unknowable place for whatever reason, with the person he’d least like to spend time with. Well, maybe except Potty.' For Rose A. White's 'Friday the 13th' Challenge


_A/N: Slight x-over with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I claim no ownership to this fic, or any recognizable characters and/or devices. This fic is in response to Rose A. White's 'Friday the Thirteenth' challenge._

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His first thought was that he _really_ didn't like the drink he was sipping. Draco glared at the drink, with a flashy umbrella on it and sniffed. It was something with pineapple. Draco _hated_ pineapple. He pulled out his wand and banished it. It made a very satisfying crunch when it hit the wall opposite.

The pale headed boy would have smiled except for the fact he just realized he had no idea where he was or how he got there. Furrowing his brow, Draco stood (realizing he had been sitting in a plastic, Muggle beach chair) and began to walk.

The surroundings were odd to say the least. The ground was green, yet littered with strange contraptions that vaguely resembled plants. All sorts of colors existed through them, and the smell was sweet, an incredibly odd thing. Draco wouldn't admit it quite openly, but he was a fan of candy and sweets. But still – he was puzzled why he was here and pushed on.

Rounding a tree that seemed to be made of lollipops, Draco came across the oddest sight. There was a girl – not much younger than himself – dancing about, to a tune only she could hear. Draco unintentionally moved forward, and once he had done so, he recognized her.

It was Loony Lovegood – Potter's friend. Draco grimaced in distaste. He was stuck in this unknowable place for whatever reason, with the person he'd least like to spend time with. Well, maybe except Potty.

Spinning, the ethereal girl caught sight of the Slytherin and smiled absentmindedly. She finished her dance, ending in a surprisingly gracefully heap on the ground. Draco just stared.

"They sing rather well, don't they?" Luna said dreamily.

"Who?" asked Draco in confusion.

"The Oompa-loompas," she calmly said.

"The loopy what?"

"Oompa-loompas," Luna said patiently. "See?" she pointed towards somewhere behind Draco. He turned to see a tiny figure running about.

"I see," he said. "But I didn't hear them singing."

"And they say _I'm_ crazy," Luna laughed. "You have to listen carefully. Try." she urged.

Draco, despite himself, did try. He cocked his head to the side and kept his ears peeled. Surprisingly he found himself hearing faint notes and an oddly deep voice in an unknown language. Perhaps Mermish, Draco thought idly.

Turning back to Luna, he headed over and sat next to her. Sitting down he found himself in Muggle beach clothes. Draco began to wonder what had happened before he found himself in this crazy place. He couldn't quite remember what he'd been doing; only finding himself in that empty chair. Could this all be a nightmare?

"Even though it's Friday the Thirteenth," said Luna, breaking into his thoughts "I don't quite think this is a nightmare." Apparently he had said that aloud.

"Friday the Thirteenth?" asked Draco.

"Oh yes," she said whimsically. "It's supposedly the most haunted and unlucky day of the year."

Draco snorted. "That's ridiculous. I've never heard anything so insane in my life!"

"I didn't say I believed it," Luna said nearly sternly. "Many people do though. I think Professor Trelawney does as well…she was speaking of the horrors that would ensue at my last Divination lesson…" She paused. "Muggles tend to believe it too. My mother told me of it – she was Muggleborn you know." He didn't but didn't say so. "Apparently they're all terrified some madman will come and kill them on this day."

Luna blinked repeatedly as Draco chuckled. It took her a moment before her uncharacteristic laugh joined in as well.

"I say," Draco said, as the silver haired girl continued to laugh. "We're just a set of superstition killers."

"Indeed – who else lands in a chocolate factory on Friday the Thirteenth?" She shifted her shoulders, and Draco noticed what she was wearing finally. It was a simple, blue dress that hung loosely, yet seemed to fit the crazy girl's ways.

Wait.

"Chocolate factory?" he asked in disbelief.

"Where did you think we were?" asked Luna. "Loompa-land? Daddy says it doesn't look anything like this – and the only place they elsewhere live is in Mister Wonka's chocolate factory…"

"Who?"

"Willy Wonka," she said day-dreamily. Clearly she wasn't noticing the look of horror growing on Draco's face. "He's an amazing confectioner, and always quite willing to talk with Daddy. His candy is amazing, though he won't sell it to wizards. Something to do with someone trying to steal his secrets and the black market."

She _did_ notice that Draco had pulled out several fistfuls of grass. He wondered if she knew it was because he was doing all he could to not scream.

"You can eat that you know," Luna said. She took some from his fists, hands brushing neatly, and stuck a strand in her mouth. Draco watched – _she was eating _grass!_ – _as she chewed and swallowed, giving a mild grin. "It's spearmint."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Draco asked, shaking his head. "this is all some horrible dream. What else could explain me being here with _you_ of all people? And in a bloody Muggle chocolate factory?!"

"Draco," Luna said calmly. "We're stuck in a walking chocolate paradise. You aren't happy?" she tilted her head to side. Innocently, she examined him.

"Happy?" scoffed Draco. "Why should I be happy?"

"Why shouldn't you be?" she countered calmly. "Why don't you give it a chance? Is there a reason why you're always so negative? I didn't think there were any wrackspurts here…"

Draco had no true answer. Instead he grumpily stared off, as she prattled. He took in the surroundings yet again – smelling the aroma of chocolate, seeing the chocolate waterfall in the distance, hearing the slight song of the Loopy creatures, and feeling the strands of candy-grass between his fingers.

He could feel her calm, round eyed stare on him. Draco wished to resist the urge and keep up his pride, but instead he gave into another temptation, and bit some of the grass.

Luna was right – it tasted like spearmint, though nearly chewy. Draco swallowed, turning to her.

"Was I right?" Luna asked. If it had been anyone else they would have asked with an air of contempt, or boastfulness. Instead, Luna asked as if she really had no idea.

"Perhaps," said Draco. Her face started to fall. "Though most likely, yes." He added, not quite sure why.

Luna's face perked up, and she smiled – a genuine smile, not her absent-minded one at this.

"I'm glad," she said. Draco wasn't sure why she was but nodded, turning away yet again.

"It's too bad this is a dream," she said.

Draco abruptly turned back, giving himself a crick in the neck. "You said this wasn't one!"

"Did I?" she asked, puzzled. "I don't think I did." She returned back to the main topic. "Unfortunately, the shared dream-powder is going to end in a minute or so."

He recognized that – an incredibly expensive item that even he wouldn't splurge on. "Shared dream-powder? Isn't that one of the-"

"Weasley Wizard Wheezes' products," Luna finished for him. "It is."

"Why me?" Draco asked, furiously. Hell, he'd actually been starting to enjoy himself. "Is this some act of revenge – are one of you and your snooty Gryffindor friends staging a rebellion this instant? Is this an effort to distract? What's with you?" he growled.

She stared calmly. "I didn't choose you – I trust luck and the house-elves." A pained look crossed her face. "I trusted you for a moment there." Luna said, wearily. "I thought that perhaps they were wrong and you _weren't_ as rude and as awful as they claimed and that there actually _was_ some hope in you."

Draco knew what she was to say, and thus said it for her. "But you were wrong."

"No," she said firmly. "You are." Draco would have responded to the Ravenclaw's attitude – really, how crazy was she? – When everything changed.

His vision suddenly tilted and became blurry. Draco's senses began to collide so all that so many things were happening at once, hands reaching towards something soft, smells of strawberry and chocolate, sight a messy blur though silver, brown and blue were the most vivid colors of the spectrum, tinkling voices heard while being mixed with slight breaths, and the taste of spearmint and something indefinable on Draco's tongue. Things began to spin, faster and faster, and Draco thought perhaps if it weren't for the fact it was all so _sweet_ he'd vomit.

But then it stopped. Not a wrenching stop that Draco would have expected, but instead he was lying on his back, on his bed in his dormitory as if he hadn't moved. Shakily, he lifted an arm and was relieved to himself in his sleeping robes, instead of the nasty Muggle beach clothes. He breathed a sigh of relief, before shooting up, looking around the room once more.

It suddenly hit Draco how dark the dungeons were and how the air smelt stale. Candles flickered but there wasn't enough light to properly see. The green flames in the fireplace had burnt low, and Draco suppressed a shiver. Had he never been cold before? The others in the room – Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini – were snoring loudly and Draco wanted to pound his head in at the noise.

Was a dream – for that was all it surely was, whether it was influenced magically or not – enough to change his perspective so much? Why did he feel so discontent?

A plate of biscuits rested on the table, and Draco reached out to eat one. Immediately he wanted to spit the bitter thing out. Instead he forced himself to chew and swallow, mind drifting to the last moments of his dream. Had it actually happened? Had Loony really had such high hopes for him? Had she really brought her lips towards his as the chocolate world faded away?

Draco then sighed, and leaned back into bed. He closed his eyes and tried to get some extra hours in before he was forced to wake up by the sound of the Carrow's screeches. Despite himself though, his last waking thoughts were concerning the apparently unluckiness of Friday the Thirteenth, and perhaps ways it could be remedied…

Visions of a blue dancing moon filled his sleep. The moon smiled down, and they dreamed on.

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